IceLiech: Body paint and Tickling
by sweetsnow73
Summary: Prompt from the random pair and prompt generator. "Iceland and Liechtenstein: Body Paint, tickling" One-Shot. Chocolate paints and a romantic night together, well that was the plan.


He draws the tiny brush along her leg. The chocolate paint leaves a stark mark against her pale white flesh. She's blushing and he's humming. She sits up, supported by pillows, his shirt covering her body, under this her under garments of bra and panty. He is shirtless and still wearing his pants but without shoes or socks. The jars lay on the floor near to him, far enough to not get knocked over, just in case. They sit on holders, above tiny candle flames to keep the set warm and liquid. Not too hot and not too cold.

The candle light is by which he paints.

In this dark intimacy he finds this a easier task than most to do. She has goosebumps, her skin is aware and awake and are waiting for his touch and the brush. It is not without his own insecurity, but he dregs on, with that wicked smile and his own blush. He's shocked at his own forwardness, but willing to let the chips fall as they might.

It's just a little experiment, a sensual discovery.

He writes her sentences. His quiet declarations of love. Things he cannot say out loud he is willing to write into her skin, albeit temporally.

He has her place her leg on his shoulder and he can reach so much more now. She lays a little further back to help with the height difference, it's a lovely advantage. He switches to the dark chocolate paint and continues on her inner thigh. Words running into the edge of her panties and he pauses here. He places the brush on the floor, it makes a small noise. It's only been their breathing up until then. It's a bizarrely ordinary sound, that lasts a few microseconds, the expansive reality of the situation eats the sound before either can really hear it.

He looks into her face as he unbuttons the shirt, she's shy, red as a flower but willing. Slowly, the worn buttons pop out of their holdings and she's exposed. She makes a tiny noise and he waits. She nods and he lets out a small breath that he didn't realize he had been holding. He hesitantly touches her abdomen.

The flesh here instantly reacts, her body sensitive to the gentleness of this whole experiment of theirs.

He paints again and this time gets a naughty idea that he is inclined to follow.

He makes a mistake and he leans forward. He licks the mistake from her naval and she squirms and blushes deeper and she likes it. Encouraged by this he turns his head slightly to his right shoulder where her leg was still atop. First a kiss, which gets a small sigh from her. He moves her leg slightly, seeing the under side, the back of her knee, then a lick, which gets a slightly different reaction.

A laugh.

So unexpected he thinks its at him. This puts him on the defensive, a default emotion for him. But he's unsure of what would have made her laugh.

"No! Not there! I'm ticklish!"

He isn't sure if he believes her but not that he has a reason to not believe her. He hates the way his mind works sometimes. So he decides to lick the space again.

She yelps, laughing and he does it again.

She's laughing hard now.

Again he licks.

This time her other leg hits him in the side of his head, he's pulled over onto the floor as she rolls over and curls in a slight fetal position, laughing, gasping for air.

His neck is trapped in between her legs in a sort of wrestling move. She slowly calms her laughter and realizes she has him pinned.

"AH!" She lets his neck loose and her hands fret over him. Now he can breath again.

"I'm so-"

He puts a finger on her lips and catches his breath.

"I'm fine. It's alright." He's embarrassed by the whole ordeal, he was the one that kept tickling her. She stares at him for a few seconds not believing him and places a kiss on his red face.

His hands reach around her and hold her. His thumbs rubbing her back, she calms down a little. She glances quickly back at the brush that was jolted away in the chaos of her laughing fit. He follows her gaze and they look at each other before the same blush reaches their faces and his hand reaches for it.

The night was young and there was enough chocolate paint for two.


End file.
